This blog is not my personal journal. My personal journal is still super secret and hidden, and if my brother read it, I would probably still be just as mortified.
However, I am going to share two excerpts with you, from my super secret journal. I usually don't like to do this, but this is such a special story that I want to share.
Friday, September 3, 2011
This morning my dad called me right before I went into lab. “We could really use your help out here.” I thought about it during lab, talked to Nate, and booked a plane ticket - $250 yuck– a few hours later. I’m flying out tomorrow morning at 5 am to help my family with flood relief.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
My dad was inspired to call me 2 weeks ago, I’m sure of it. Not to help with flood relief like we thought, but to help with grandma and grandpa relief. I’m so glad others around me have the Spirit to guide them, and even when I’m too distracted with the things of the world to receive promptings, the Lord still makes sure I’m where I need to be. I was only planning on staying here from Saturday until Tuesday – flying home in the early afternoon in order to be home in time for my (what used to seem so important) clinicals. Once I saw the state of Grandpa I thought about staying to help. Still, I wavered – missing school is hard, and making it up is even harder – especially clinicals!
Monday night I was sure I was leaving the next day. I even checked into my flight. Tuesday morning I got up early to help my grandma one more time. While I was there, we decided to wash him and I fed him, crushed his pills, took his blood sugar, emptied his foley bag… by the time I looked at my watch, it was almost time to go. Then the hospice nurse came and spent a lot of time talking to me and giving me instructions. By the time she left, I should have already left for the airport – but by that time I knew I was supposed to stay. And I was. I know Heavenly Father wanted me there. Aunt Angela made the remark, “Cami, next time can you just listen to the Spirit so we don’t have to have a hurricane to get you out here to help Grandma??” Aunt Suzy told me, “After you got there, when I talked to Grandma it seemed like 10,000 pounds had been lifted off her shoulders. You helped her more than you’ll ever know.”
And she helped me more than she’ll ever know. I left a shaky, scared nursing student, feeling like I’d never done anything important. I came home a confident nurse, confident in my skills, confident in working with families, and confident in my ability to provide competent patient care. I was able to spend invaluable time with my grandpa before he died. And I was able to bond with my grandma in a way that I think few people can. I was able to experience the experience of death. I still feel like I didn’t deserve to be a part of his actual passing in that way, and so blessed to have seen it at the same time. It is something I will never forget. The veil was so thin in that moment – I know there were other people in the room, I know my Grandpa was looking at something, or someone. I wonder every day what it was he was seeing in that moment, right before his spirit left his body. I asked him, “Grandpa, what are you looking at?” His eyes were so wide, so focused, for the first time in a while. It was so clear he was seeing something or someone. I wonder if it was Juila, James, and Grace? Maybe his parents, or even his grandparents? Maybe all those people? Maybe the Savior? Reaching toward him, holding his hand, and guiding his spirit away, saying “Jim, we’ve got a long list of work for you up there, let’s get going!” I really felt that something sacred was transpiring, and felt the urge to bow my head in reverence. Right before I panicked, and called for my dad, that is.
Right before I brought grandma over to realize what had happened. I wish she had seen him leave.
But I feel blessed every day that I was in the right place at the right time to experience that, and also to help my grandma in her time of need. I hope that I can be as open to the Spirit as my dad, so that someday I won’t need other people to facilitate me being where I need to be. Monday night before I was supposed to leave I felt a very strong impression to stay, a voice inside of me said, “stay, stay, STAY.” I convinced myself I was imagining it, and decided to go home anyway. I am so grateful that Heavenly Father forgave my stubbornness and stupidity and provided a way for me to stay anyway. So, so grateful. It is something I will never forget and never, ever regret. Something I think I will think about every single day for the rest of my life – at least it seems like that now.
Monday, September 19, 2011
Yesterday in Relief Society, Elizabeth (Seth’s wife) gave the most perfect, insightful, spiritual analogy I’ve ever heard in my whole life.
She told about running a marathon, how she finished and then hung out at the finish line and watched for a bit. Runners would come in, usually one at a time, because during the 26 miles there was a lot of room to spread out. As each runner came in, the crowd at the finish line would cheer for the runner. Most of the crowd would politely clap, unenthusiastically, like, yay runner…. But with each runner, there was a small pocket of people that would go crazy cheering. They were so proud of their loved ones for finishing the race. She talked about one runner that was struggling, and struggling badly. She didn’t know how he had even been able to make it this far. When he got near the end, and his pocket in the crowd started cheering, an old woman in a brown pant suit hopped over the barrier and ran with him until the end. She was so proud, and wanted to help him finish, to be there for him and with him.
She compared it to another race. Where, at the end, there are people all around clapping, and welcoming us to the finish line – but each runner has their own pocket of family and friends, going crazy, so excited to see them, so excited in their success. And sometimes, someone from that pocket will jump over the barrier, and run with us that last, long, hard part, and bring us home. The veil is so thin at the end, and our friends and family who have gone before us are there cheering, I’m sure of it. I’m sure that’s what happened to my grandpa, as well, at the end.
0 comments:
Post a Comment